it is not my
heart that hurts
what a cliché
would that be
(what a cliché
"cliché" is!)
i do not know
what hurts
inside
i do not know
where "inside" is.
i heard a
crack and
felt a pain
(but only because
i twisted my back
much too much).
you are not
running through
my mind,
that would be
silly.
you do not
possess
any part of me
yet why do i
sense that
i am yours?
half and half
of hate and love
it is ambiguous
who did what.
you've changed,
so have i,
or maybe
my change
changed you
or you changed
me to change
the way i look at you.
i crack my toes,
and hear the noise
i'm sure my heart
would never make.
and sometimes
i wonder why
it is that i
should ever
need to think.
"But herein mean I to enrich my pain,
To have his sight thither and back again."
Exit.
(A Midsummer Night's Dream 1.1.250-251)
another roadside attraction. tom robbins.
"Shit, baby, you're like everybody else, just more sensitive, that's all."
i'm afraid of your smile, because it makes me forget everything else.
your eyes become livelier than i've ever seen them to be,
and everything else falls this way and that
to create the perfect physical portrayal of joy.
and yes, i am happy when i see you,
i laugh so much when you try your jokesters on me.
sometimes, you take it all away all too soon,
that i'd wish i could reach invisibly to your hand,
your sleeve,
and gently tug your entirety back to me.
i'd stare at the back of your walking head and body,
and murmur soundlessly for you to turn around.
my wish is for a delayed departure:
shoot me with something else,
anything would be everything.
not tonight, you seem to answer,
for tonight shall be quick.
and so your head turns
(but not your body)
just slightly,
just enough for your mouth and tongue
to pull out the gun
and fire-
i love you,
you say
to me
as i fall to the ground.
sometimes, you take it all away all too soon.
your eyes become livelier than i've ever seen them to be,
and everything else falls this way and that
to create the perfect physical portrayal of joy.
and yes, i am happy when i see you,
i laugh so much when you try your jokesters on me.
sometimes, you take it all away all too soon,
that i'd wish i could reach invisibly to your hand,
your sleeve,
and gently tug your entirety back to me.
i'd stare at the back of your walking head and body,
and murmur soundlessly for you to turn around.
my wish is for a delayed departure:
shoot me with something else,
anything would be everything.
not tonight, you seem to answer,
for tonight shall be quick.
and so your head turns
(but not your body)
just slightly,
just enough for your mouth and tongue
to pull out the gun
and fire-
i love you,
you say
to me
as i fall to the ground.
sometimes, you take it all away all too soon.
away.
you lay everything
on the table,
the forks
used for piercing,
the spoons
for holding,
the knives
for cutting,
the bowls
from which you take
away all
the soup
that you ladle
carefully,
steaming
warm.
then the glasses
of wine,
filled to a
level below my heart,
clearer
sweeter
stronger.
i am ready.
i take my seat.
i hold the glass
and taste the wine.
yes,
sweet.
your eyes
find mine,
and i see,
yes
i do.
your hands
move away
from my fingertips,
sliding slowly back
across the tablecloth,
pushing a wave
in your direction.
your hands,
gliding
silently
softly
yet almost sorrily.
they trail down
to the edge,
the end
and stop.
my eyes
search for yours
a fleeting moment
is all you afford me
and in that quickly slow motion
your fingers collect together
sandwiching the cloth
and
fsh
is the sound
that comes before
the white rises and falls,
the solemn silver's clatter,
the porcelain's demise,
it is all that warns me
of the sweet
about to spill.
on the table,
the forks
used for piercing,
the spoons
for holding,
the knives
for cutting,
the bowls
from which you take
away all
the soup
that you ladle
carefully,
steaming
warm.
then the glasses
of wine,
filled to a
level below my heart,
clearer
sweeter
stronger.
i am ready.
i take my seat.
i hold the glass
and taste the wine.
yes,
sweet.
your eyes
find mine,
and i see,
yes
i do.
your hands
move away
from my fingertips,
sliding slowly back
across the tablecloth,
pushing a wave
in your direction.
your hands,
gliding
silently
softly
yet almost sorrily.
they trail down
to the edge,
the end
and stop.
my eyes
search for yours
a fleeting moment
is all you afford me
and in that quickly slow motion
your fingers collect together
sandwiching the cloth
and
fsh
is the sound
that comes before
the white rises and falls,
the solemn silver's clatter,
the porcelain's demise,
it is all that warns me
of the sweet
about to spill.
tears.
yes,
i'll say this much
that if i should ever
restock
the first arrival
would go to you.
they'd probably be
quite the bunch
glittering
even with minimal light,
bursting
on their own,
so very plump with
bitters and
negative sugars.
they'd exceed
all those you've
ever had before,
i can promise you
that that much
will be true.
i want to ask
if you are certain
you want this.
have you finished
all you'd carried away
the last time around?
well, you are
in an odd streak of luck,
and it won't be much
longer.
if you'd just wait
a little more,
they might appear
before your eyes
this very instant,
from my eyes.
i'll say this much
that if i should ever
restock
the first arrival
would go to you.
they'd probably be
quite the bunch
glittering
even with minimal light,
bursting
on their own,
so very plump with
bitters and
negative sugars.
they'd exceed
all those you've
ever had before,
i can promise you
that that much
will be true.
i want to ask
if you are certain
you want this.
have you finished
all you'd carried away
the last time around?
well, you are
in an odd streak of luck,
and it won't be much
longer.
if you'd just wait
a little more,
they might appear
before your eyes
this very instant,
from my eyes.
suicide series.
ask me what rain tastes like.
better than tears.
you have my heart
too tight in your hands.
you can't be mine,
i know.
your eyes play with mine
& your mind plays with mine
but my heart is so lonely,
don't you know.
you play unfairly,
bending the invisible rules,
bending until dangerous angles
flirt around,
until they creak and break.
do you know what you're doing,
what you've done?
what will you do?
must you toy with me so.
it is in my mind, i know-
you're innocent,
unknowing.
you're so near,
but you aren't mine.
and i'm not yours.
my heart with you is broken.
darling (why must) you hurt me so.
[written on a quietly rainy night...day.]
and like an infant
i smile wide
and then i remember
who i am
where i am
who looks at me this
very instant
(you)
and i try to
take it back in,
the smile hides
but a moment too late
your laughing eyes
have seen it all,
seen beyond the lips
and the childish gap
and into me
your eyes are searching
for that something
i try not to disclose.
i refuse to let you know
yet i feel i want you
to know.
you have sought,
you have pried,
you have found,
you have examined.
i'm certain (almost)
that you know
that i know
that i know you know
my heart is yours.
(my smiling lips
your laughing eyes...)
bittersweet.
your stare softly sparkling
like a glazed memory of
a childhood merry go around
and i feel fine
for that moment
on the carousel
when all the world is a blur
and the warm wind runs its
neverending course.
if you...
then i...
oh never mind.
the time about which
i can only reminisce
so simple but bland.
the seconds of the
here and now
so capricious.
no longer so tastelessly
clear and blind
(to the facts forever stationary and volatile)
sweet, it is
bringing giggles to my soul
spicy, it can be
stinging my eyes,
making them cry.
sour, i pucker up
and wince my way through.
bitter, very very often
in marriage with sweet,
can very well
be the flavor
my heart tastes
now.
(you bring the bitter,
i bring the sweet.)
suicide.
i see her leading you
away by the heart
and as you go,
you lead away mine.
but i remain (i collapse)
lonely with my mind.
my eyes,
having given all they had,
wither away.
and my mind
beats itself
with all that could have been.
if you ever return,
perhaps you'll see
me,
or what remains.
perhaps you'll make
time
piece me together
again.
but my heart
is yours
to keep.
take care,
love.
better than tears.
you have my heart
too tight in your hands.
you can't be mine,
i know.
your eyes play with mine
& your mind plays with mine
but my heart is so lonely,
don't you know.
you play unfairly,
bending the invisible rules,
bending until dangerous angles
flirt around,
until they creak and break.
do you know what you're doing,
what you've done?
what will you do?
must you toy with me so.
it is in my mind, i know-
you're innocent,
unknowing.
you're so near,
but you aren't mine.
and i'm not yours.
my heart with you is broken.
darling (why must) you hurt me so.
[written on a quietly rainy night...day.]
and like an infant
i smile wide
and then i remember
who i am
where i am
who looks at me this
very instant
(you)
and i try to
take it back in,
the smile hides
but a moment too late
your laughing eyes
have seen it all,
seen beyond the lips
and the childish gap
and into me
your eyes are searching
for that something
i try not to disclose.
i refuse to let you know
yet i feel i want you
to know.
you have sought,
you have pried,
you have found,
you have examined.
i'm certain (almost)
that you know
that i know
that i know you know
my heart is yours.
(my smiling lips
your laughing eyes...)
bittersweet.
your stare softly sparkling
like a glazed memory of
a childhood merry go around
and i feel fine
for that moment
on the carousel
when all the world is a blur
and the warm wind runs its
neverending course.
if you...
then i...
oh never mind.
the time about which
i can only reminisce
so simple but bland.
the seconds of the
here and now
so capricious.
no longer so tastelessly
clear and blind
(to the facts forever stationary and volatile)
sweet, it is
bringing giggles to my soul
spicy, it can be
stinging my eyes,
making them cry.
sour, i pucker up
and wince my way through.
bitter, very very often
in marriage with sweet,
can very well
be the flavor
my heart tastes
now.
(you bring the bitter,
i bring the sweet.)
suicide.
i see her leading you
away by the heart
and as you go,
you lead away mine.
but i remain (i collapse)
lonely with my mind.
my eyes,
having given all they had,
wither away.
and my mind
beats itself
with all that could have been.
if you ever return,
perhaps you'll see
me,
or what remains.
perhaps you'll make
time
piece me together
again.
but my heart
is yours
to keep.
take care,
love.
the crying room.
it has been a while since the last time.
the sudden familiarity of...
the world as a blur,
quivering, unsteady,
and plop-
down it drops,
independent of the eye.
it is freed.
where am i?
if by my desk,
perhaps it has fallen
unto a piece of paper,
soaking through
and through...
(was it big, or rather small?)
and if after it dries i go
to touch that spot,
i'll recall what
affair it was that made
the small rain...
how lost,
lonely and hidden.
or, i remember
nothing-
that paper has taken
all there was...
or, was it the bed?
the sudden familiarity of...
the world as a blur,
quivering, unsteady,
and plop-
down it drops,
independent of the eye.
it is freed.
where am i?
if by my desk,
perhaps it has fallen
unto a piece of paper,
soaking through
and through...
(was it big, or rather small?)
and if after it dries i go
to touch that spot,
i'll recall what
affair it was that made
the small rain...
how lost,
lonely and hidden.
or, i remember
nothing-
that paper has taken
all there was...
or, was it the bed?
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